


You'll Never Be Alone

by Starjargon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starjargon/pseuds/Starjargon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River gets scared and has nightmares too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Never Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- Because I couldn’t resist. The dreams are non- linear and slightly mixed- up as dreams tend to be. Please review, as I’m not sure if everyone is in- character, and I’d really like to improve.
> 
> Disclaimer: I love the characters. I don’t own them.

Every time the fears came, so did he.  She had been married only about a week when her nightly adventures with the Doctor extended into the days, and she would join her parents as well as her madcap husband through space and time for one or two adventures before returning to Stormcage.  It was right before the third such time that the nightmares started.

They came in the early hours of the morning, or however you would characterize it within the TARDIS.  In any case, it was after her private adventure with her husband and the shared adventure with the Ponds.  She didn’t need much sleep but the Doctor required even less, and it was the first night of their marriage she didn’t wake up in his arms as he went to fiddle with his beloved ship.

He had held her, of course, when she drifted off to sleep, and though she didn’t consider herself clingy, the wonderful dream she was having shifted when his body did.  The Doctor had been there for her graduation from university.  She saw him in the front row the day she became Doctor Song.  She stood, exhilarated and pleased with herself as she watched his slow approach- his smile one of delight and pride at her accomplishments.  Her eyes lit up and she leaned toward him, eager to run into his open arms.  But then, his face changed.  Those arms she was falling into belonged to another man- no- _The man._ The one who had haunted her for as long as she could remember.  The spaceman had found her once again.  She tried to look for the Doctor, Mr. President, anyone who could help her escape the arms that had now encompassed her small body.  Years lived in Leadworth with her parents had made her nearly forget what it was like to be so helpless.  She was no longer that woman who’d made her own choices- who’d run and fought and survived.  She was Melody when the Spaceman came.  She was scared.  She was alone.  And she was crying.

She didn’t realize she had been screaming for help until she woke up, strong arms around her, holding her tightly, but in these arms she didn’t feel trapped.  She shook as she leaned against him, ashamed of her tears.  He just whispered soothing comforts in her ear, smoothed her hair, and kissed the top of her head until she could take his pity no more and pulled away.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t ever have to be sorry.  I completely understand.”

“You must think I’m such a-“

“I think you’re incredible woman who has been through more than anyone could possibly imagine, and there is absolutely no shame in that.”

“How did you kn- You must have run here in order t- I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“No. Never be sorry for that. Ever.  I did run, when I heard you screaming- tried to wake you but it took a while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now, stop that.”

“Did you really run here because of a silly little nightmare?”

“Nothing that hurts you is silly or little.  Of course I ran.  I couldn’t just leave you to that mad brain of yours so I could fix myself a cup of tea now could I? Who do you think I am?”

She half- smiled at that. No, of course he couldn’t just ignore her pain. She knew that. Knew he would always come running for her.  He always had- so far anyway.  Even if he was a bit late sometimes.

“Does this happen often? I mean, when you’re in Stormcage, or…”

“No.  Not for years.  Not since I was Mels at a very young age.”

“Well, I expect certain recent events probably triggered this.  Being kidnapped and brainwashed wasn’t bad enough, you also had to make the universe believe you-“

“Please.  They just had to believe I murdered the man I love most in the universe because I’m a cold- blooded, vengeful weapon who was engineered to be his assassin.  It happens.”

“Er… Right.  So… do you want to talk about it?”

“I thought we just did.”

“Right.  Yeah.  Good.  Good talk.  I’ll just…  I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?  Big day ahead of us, I’m sure.”

She felt silly.  Silly that she could have such a nightmare after so many years, and even sillier that she’d been caught.  But oh- that man.  He never let her feel foolish.  Just took her pain and listened and refused to let her feel weak no matter how hard she tried.  She loved him for that.

Perhaps it was that fact, coupled with the fact he never once brought up her moment of frailty and lack of self- control at all, nor the fact that it had occurred several times now, that made her less self- conscious when it next happened.  This time Melody was staring at the woman from her dreams, who always made everything better whenever she was so, so scared.  Whose picture was a greater comfort than the inadequate stuffed animals or the gentle, confused man they had assigned her.  Mother.  She looked up, and wanted to run to her arms, then saw the anger, and alarm, and condemnation on her face, and all of that was worse than the weapon Amy raised to her.  Who wouldn’t hate her?  She hated herself.  She had killed her love with a kiss, and no one deserved to exist after such an act. 

Now, when her mother pulled the trigger, she jerked awake and was unsurprised to see him sitting next to her, stroking her curls back, telling her everything would be alright.  She appreciated the space he was trying to give her at this point, and sat up and put her head on his shoulder.  He awkwardly put his arm around her and she clung to him, allowing his presence to sooth her.  This time she told him about the nightmare, and her secret shame, and once again, he listened.  He always listened, and she found that talking to him about it made the nightmares less scary.  He never judged her fears, nor her reactions, and he never ever brought up these private, vulnerable exchanges. 

It made her want to confide even more in him about such things.  Maybe it was because he always came for her, eventually.  Or maybe because she felt unreservedly, inexplicably safe when he was around.  She knew the stories.  She knew the man.  The ancient warrior.  The mighty healer.  The one who was just as capable of leading armies as mending them.  She knew this walking, amazing, contradiction loved her so much, always had and always would.  His mere presence made the ache, the pain, the fear, the anxiety- every horrible emotion- simply less.  She loved him for that, too.

The nightmares had become near irregular now, and so, on the few occasions she did startle awake, some old fears being hashed out in her dreams, she immediately got out of bed and sought him out- no longer needing his arms engulfing her to calm her down.  He had just poured himself a cup of tea by the looks of it, and he glanced up when she walked in.  After a silent moment of contemplation when he saw her face, he quietly poured her a cup and sat down.  And listened. 

Eventually, the nightmares all but vanished.  But, they had trained her to seek him out whenever a new fear would present itself, like a habit she never wanted to break.  She would find a private moment and explain her present worry or fear. No matter how silly. No matter how small.  No matter where in their time-streams they were.  Two things remained.  She could always confide in him and he would always listen without reserve and with complete understanding.

Therefore, it was with this ritual firmly established that, years later, when he didn’t quite know who she was yet, she couldn’t help but to confide in him once again.  He was so very young.  She was getting so old.  But her age never mattered when it came to this.  A new concern, no, terror, had presented itself lately, one she couldn’t shake as easily as those early nightmares.  They were travelling backwards and it couldn’t be undone and it hurt and she was scared she’d see her precious Doctor and he would look through her.  And this time, the death in the nightmare would be real.  But it would be hers.

She needed him.  Needed him to know, because when he knew, she could face it, even though he couldn’t fix it.  So, when they had a private moment alone, she told her daddy all about her fear, as she had every time for so, so long.  And, just like always, Rory listened.


End file.
